A Finer Point of Templar Training
by PrincessTverski
Summary: After the destruction of Haven, Commander Cullen must use all his resources to keep the Herald of Andraste warm after her exposure to the blizzard winds. F!TrevelyanxCullen. NSFW. PWP. Doesn't proceed "A Good Man."


**So basically, I just wanted some gratuitous Cullen smut. Like I said in the description, though this is the same Inquisitor, this story doesn't really mesh with "A Good Man". It's just another idea that popped into my head. I hope you like it! ;-)**

* * *

><p>The cold was eating away her bones and gnawing up her skin. The wind hit her face, stabbing away like a thousand little knives. She wanted to cry, but frozen tears against her skin would only make it worse. Elena didn't know which way to walk, only that she must keep walking. If she stopped, if she looked back, even for a moment she would be lost. The world screamed around her, cold and angry. It felt as if each snowflake that touched her cut through skin.<p>

She took a deep, shuddering breath that froze half way through her lungs. She had to keep going. Haven needed her. The Inquisition needed her.

The mark on her hand throbbed with each step, white hot pain shooting up her arm, into her chest. Andraste preserve me, she thought. Trying to distract herself from the pain, the weariness, the great effort of it all, she thought about the people who were counting on her. She thought about Cassandra and her no nonsense attitude, her steadfast faith. She thought about Josephine's gentle warmth, and her eagerness melt the hearts of all who went up against her. There was Leliana's cold, calculated strategies. And Elena thought about Cullen—his warm smile and fierce desire to protect all those around him. They all needed her to come back. She had to get back to them.

But she was so weary. The pain was blinding, paralyzing. She wanted to stop, to rest.

_Elena_…_E…l…e…n…a_.

It was the faintest whisper through the roaring fury around her. Her name, someone was calling her name. The ice that had formed around her eyelashes cracked as she raised her gaze, searching the white void before for the source of her name. She tried to shout out, to let them know she was right here, but her voice froze in her throat.

She couldn't make a sound. It hurt too much.

Elena stopped for just a moment. Just a moment longer and she would get back up. She was on her knees and the snow felt warm beneath her. It was so comfortable, and her legs were so tired. Golden light filled her vision and for a second, before everything went to black, she thought she saw shapes running across the snow.

* * *

><p>Cullen's lungs burned with every step he took—he had as much endurance as the next seasoned warrior, but the screaming blizzard winds were punishing. They had to find her though. The Herald of Andraste could not be dead, lost in a mountain slide to be forgotten among the ruins of Haven. He would not allow it.<p>

"Elena!" He bellowed again, his voice mixing with those of the rest of the search party.

He thought of her as he ran thought the white night, torch held high above his head, looking for any sign of her. A glint of armor or a strand of glossy auburn hair. Nothing. He kept going. Kept thinking of her—if he kept her fixed in his mind, he was certain to keep her in this world. He thought of the way she would run up to him after returning from a mission, breathless and cheery, wanting to know if he had anything to report. She'd stand and talk to him about all and sundry—Templars, mages. Maker's breath! When she had asked him about chastity vows he thought the earth would swallow him whole. Surely she was teasing him. But instead of cracking jokes, she had taken his words in stride—a serious, contemplative look on her face.

He swallowed hard. She couldn't be gone. The Inquisition needed her. He didn't know what he—what _they_ would do without her.

"Cullen! This way!" Leliana called from somewhere to his right.

He wheeled around, sprinting towards the Spymaster's voice. He saw Elena, just as he came to the rest of the party. She dropped where she standing, to kneel in the snow. Cullen threw his torch to the side, unconcerned whether someone would catch it or if it would fizzle out in the snow, and scooped the Inquisitor into his arms.

"Back to Haven!" He ordered, clutching her to his chest. "Spread the word that we found her. Spread the word that the Herald of Andraste yet lives!"

* * *

><p>Cullen sat outside the Herald's tent, elbows propped on his knees, holding his head in his hands. It had been a full day since they returned to Haven, and the long night would slowly break into a second dawn. Before him a large fire crackled, but he could find no warmth from it. The mood in the camp was equally despondent as they all held their breath, waiting. Elena Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, wavered between life and death a few feet from him, and there was nothing he could do but wait. When they had finally brought her back to camp, she was shivering so violently Cullen was afraid her teeth would crack. They'd placed as many braziers as they dared to around her, and covered her in as many blankets as could be spared. But Cullen feared that it would not be enough.<p>

Cassandra emerged from the tent, a grim look fixed on her serious face.

"How is she?" He asked, jumping out of his seat.

"She woke up for a moment, but she was disoriented—and in pain from the heat. Thank the Maker that she's fallen asleep again."

Cullen nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. What would become of them if she didn't make it through the night? The image of her bright smile flashed through his mind's eye unbidden.

"I don't know what more we can do. Solas says her body temperature is not rising as rapidly as it should," The Seeker continued.

Her words jogged something in his memory, but he hesitated. Part of his Templar training had covered survival skills, and he knew a few tricks beyond what they had done already for Elena. He was sure, however, that Cassandra would not like his suggestion.

"If you've got something to say, Cullen, spit it out," she snapped.

He cleared his throat, "we could warm her with body heat. Templar training teaches…" he kicked the ground with this boot. "Anyway, it's not proper for a noblewoman."

Cassandra's nostrils flared. "Hang propriety! I don't care if you have to bathe her in fresh horse blood, get in that tent and warm her up!"

He hesitated.

"That's an order, Commander," she returned.

Cullen sighed and nodded. "Do _not_ let anyone into the tent, or word of this spread. We can't have her reputation compromised."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

Once the tent flaps had settled behind him, he stood a moment, taking in his surroundings. A camp bed was propped in the middle of the space, four braziers around it, red hot coals simmering in the dim light. Nestled between fur coverings and fleece blankets, he could just make out Elena's slight shape. If it wasn't for her long red hair spilling out over the pillows, he might have thought her already whisked away to the Maker's side.

Cullen kicked off his boots and began unfastening the clasps of his cloak and armor. He knew the Herald had already been stripped of her wet clothing and cold metal gear. _Maker's breath what have I gotten myself into_, he thought as he tugged his shirt over his head. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about what it would be like to lay with her, but he certainly never thought it would be like this—he'd always pictured her very much awake and eager for his advances. Not that he was planning on doing anything—Maker forbid! He despised the type of man who would take such liberties with an unwilling woman.

He took a deep breath, angry at himself for evening stirring up past fantasies. Now was not the time to dwell on what could never be. He unlaced his breeches and pulled them off. Cullen hesitated a moment, unsure if he should take his small clothes off as well. This was for her survival, but he couldn't help feeling as if he were violating her trust in doing so. In the end, he kept them on, though he worried that even a small barrier between them would hinder her chances at warming up.

Sending a silent prayer to Andraste as he slipped between the covers, Cullen averted his eyes as best he could in an attempt to maintain her modesty. Elena lay on her side, naked and shivering. His gaze briefly took in the swell of her breasts before he looked away. Maker's breath! This was going to be a difficult night.

He maneuvered until their torsos were flush against each other. Cullen wrapped his arms around her waist and hooked one leg over her hips pulling her to him, trying to cover as much of her as he could with own body. He tucked her head under his chin and tried to think of anything besides where he was and who he was with.

Elena was breathing steadily, her chest rising and falling gently against him. Cullen tried not to think about the fullness of her breasts or the swell of her hip beneath him. His manhood stirred at the press of smooth skin against him. He bit his lip, focusing on the sharp pain and coppery taste of blood. This was not for his own pleasure. This was for the Herald. This was to save her life.

He began to recite.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."

She shifted slightly in her sleep, pressing closer to him and the heat he brought.

Cullen groaned. He was hard now, the column of his cock pressed against her stomach. Perhaps this had been a mistake. He wasn't strong enough, disciplined enough, to keep his own body in check. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

A soft sigh escaped her lips and for a moment fear gripped Cullen's heart. Was that her last breath? No. He relaxed a little; he could feel her heart beating against his own. Maker she was beautiful. And her skin was so soft.

He took another deep, shuddering breath. He couldn't remember where he had been in the Chant. The tent was so warm and Elena fit so well against him. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and soon sleep claimed him as well.

He dreamt of her.

Her bright eyes and sweet mouth. She was kneeling over him, astride him, kissing him everywhere. His lips, cheeks, and shoulders. His throat, and chest and stomach. Each touch was a spark of fire against his flesh. Her mouth hovered over his cock before she trailed kisses up his hard length. Her hands stroked him; gentle caresses against the flat of his stomach. Fingers trailed through the golden thatch of chest hair. He groaned as she did things with her mouth that were forbidden by Chantry law. Her tongue pressed against the underside of his member and the warm, wet heat of her mouth pressing in around him.

He woke with a jolt, heart racing and cock twitching in agonizing want.

"Maker's breath," he swore, taking stock of his current situation.

Elena has shifted in her delirium so that her back was flush against him. He tried not to think about what parts of her were pressed against his manhood, only the thin material of his small clothes between them. Her skin was warm and rosy though, and thin sheen of sweat hovered over her shoulders and forehead. Cullen sighed. Thank the Maker she was no long shivering or cool to the touch.

He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but now that she seemed to be well on her way to recovery it was time for him to go. He'd tempted fate long enough. Someone was bound to ask questions, or worse, walk in on them. Cullen willed his arms to relinquish her and slowly, so not to wake her, moved to leave the bed.

Elena turned over in her sleep suddenly, pressing her cheek to his chest.

"Stay," she murmured.

Cullen froze. Perhaps he had imagined it—perhaps _he_ was delirious from lack of blood to his brain. He hesitated a moment before moving to leave again.

Elena's arm snaked out, wrapping around his chest.

"Cullen. Stay," this time her voice was clearer.

He swallowed hard. His name hanging in the air. She knew it was him next to her. This had to be another dream. There was no way the Herald of Andraste was inviting him to stay naked and entwined with her in bed.

"Elena?" He ventured, not sure if silence or an answer would be more frightening.

"shhhh," she hushed. "Stop messing up my dream."

Dream? She thought this was a dream? That would explain why she wasn't screaming in surprise at their nakedness. Cullen sighed and eased back into bed. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he let the other rest against her side. Andraste preserve him. If Cassandra walked in now she'd have his balls for breakfast.

* * *

><p>Elena knew it wasn't a dream.<p>

She had awoken earlier, the initial golden cocoon of warmth and contentment she felt giving away to confusion and disorientation. The events of the previous night—had it only been a night? How long had she wavered between the living and the dead?—came crashing back. Corypheus. The terror. The cold.

When she became aware of the man holding her, there had been a brief moment of unease before she realized it was Cullen.

Safe, strong Cullen.

Still, she wondered why they were naked—or, in his case, nearly naked; she could feel the fabric of his small clothes against her skin. Flush rose to her cheeks when she realized she could also feel his hard arousal pressed against her belly. Elena turned her thoughts from it to half remembrances of someone once telling her a person suffering from being out in the cold could be revived from another's body heat. Perhaps she had been in need of such ministrations. Though it was a strange position to wake up in, she trusted the Commander not to take advantage of the situation.

Elena sighed as she felt the hands of sleep tug at her gently. She rolled over, burrowing into Cullen's warm embrace. She lay there in his arms drifting between the waking world and the Fade, until she felt him stiffen. He must be awake. She had not thought about what would happen now, and in a moment of panic, she pretended to still be lost to the Fade. When he tried to leave her side though, Maker she felt even more panicked by that.

And now here they were, naked bodies pressed together, both pretending to be sleeping so not to startle the other. His hands felt so good against her body—though they were calloused in texture, his touch was gentle. Before this moment she had thought—perhaps half imagined—that there was _something_between them. The way he looked at her sometimes, or the way they would accidently touch—just the briefest brush of skin on skin—in the war council. But she had never let herself hope that anything would come if it. He was a military man, practical and hardened—surely he would see the folly in pursuing a relationship with her while the world burned around them.

Yet here they were. If there was ever a time to make her desires known, it would be now.

Tilting her head up, Elena opened her eyes to meet his warm amber ones. Heat rose to his cheeks when he realized she was watching him.

"Herald…I…I can explain." He stammered.

"Shhhh," she murmured again, arching her body against him so she could press a kiss his jaw. "There's no need."

The stubble of his beard scratched against her lips and she felt his whole body stiffen at her touch. Before she could doubt herself, he relaxed and shifted, tangling his fingers into her hair as he cupped her face. His lips met hers in a searing kiss that left her breathless.

When he pulled away, Elena ducked her head a little, hiding the wide smile that was creeping on to her face.

"That was…really nice," she murmured, lifting her gaze to his again.

Cullen was smiling, a half smirk which highlighted the scar that cut through his upper lip. Elena licked her lips and drew a deep breath. She was no longer cold, just the opposite—she could feel heat spreading through her body, driven by ardent desire. Wetness pooled between her legs and her breath hitched in her throat. Cullen's thumb ran gently over her cheek.

"Maker's breath, you're beautiful," he whispered.

His voice was husky, and she could feel his chest rumble as he spoke. She couldn't think of anything beyond that moment. The world outside the tent did not exist: Haven, the Inquisition, Corypheus. All of it was a bad dream. Cullen, naked and hard with desire, pressed against her, was the only reality that mattered.

Fast as lightening, she straddled him. Blankets pooling around her hips, leaving her breasts bear to his gaze. The head of his cock had pressed past the band of his small clothes, and Elena pressed her wet slit to it. Cullen gripped her hips hard, gasping, his head tilted back and eyes closed. She wondered if he would leave bruises on her; she hoped he did. She rolled her hips against him—inexperienced though she was; she listened to her body and watched him for a reaction.

Cullen opened his eyes and smiled. He palmed her breast with one hand, the other dug into her side, urging her to roll her hips against once more. Elena bit her lip, and obliged. She ran her fingers up his chest, enjoying the softness of his chest hair. The heat between them was spreading through her body, out towards her limbs. She wanted him inside of her. She looked down at him, eyes heavily lidded with lust. The rough calluses of his hand scrapped against the soft skin of her breast as he circled her nipple with his thumb. She let out a low moan as Cullen bucked his hips to meet hers.

Elena leaned down, capturing his lips with hers. He sighed against her and moved his hand to cradle the back of her neck. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his.

"Cullen."

The sound of his name on her lips set a fire roaring inside of him. He needed her—all this teasing of her wet, slick warmth against him would drive him to madness. His cock ached as his desire to be sheathed inside of her consumed him. Letting out a low growl, he sat up swiftly, pulling her legs around his hips. His manhood pressed against her heat, and he cursed himself for not taking his small clothes off before he climbed into bed with her.

"I'm going to make love to you, Elena Trevelyan, until you can't see straight," he promised, his lips pressed to the hollow of her throat.

She dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, and whimpered in response. He laid her down beneath him, her legs still locked around his waist. With her feet, she helped him kick off his small clothes, finally freeing his cock. Cullen sat back on his haunches at took in the sight before him. She lay, spread before him, skin glowing in the dim light of the braziers. Her hair was a halo of fire around her. Elena's bright eyes looked up at him, heavy with desire. He watched as her gaze traveled down the length of his body to rest on his thick member, he own desire coating the tip. Cullen smirked as her eyes widened and white teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she contemplated. Slowly, watching for her reaction, he stroked himself once, twice, thrice, his thumb running over the head each time. She shivered beneath him, her hips giving an involuntary quiver.

"Cullen. Please." Her voice was horse, barely above a whisper.

He leaned down, covering his body with his, and captured her lips. She tasted like honey and light itself. Elena's fingers tangled in his curls and she held him fast against her.

"As my lady Herald desires, so shall she receive," he murmured into their kiss.

He raised his hips and with a free hand pressed the head of his cock to her wet heat. He watched her writhe, desperate to have more of him. In one swift movement, Cullen sheathed himself inside of her. _Maker's breath_. Stars erupted behind his eyes as his cock settled in her tight, wet heat. _Fuck_. It had been far too long since he'd been with a woman.

She could feel him throbbing inside of her now, his hard length stretching and filling all of her. He began to move—long, hard thrusts that made a little mewl escape her lips with each joining. The tent was filled with the sound of flesh on flesh, their soft groans of desire. His mouth and hands were everywhere, her breasts, her neck and face. Elena raked her nails down his back, gaining pleasure of the feeling of his strong muscles quivering under her touch. He growled, and bit the tender skin of her neck in response, sending fire spiraling to her core.

"Yes. Do that again," she gasped.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and Cullen licked the bite mark before nipping his way down her throat and shoulder.

He rolled, taking her with so she sat astride him once more. Cullen gripped her waist and urged her to ride him. A smirk slid over her lips, and her fingers curled into fists against his chest as she impaled herself on his hard length again and again, each time building the sweet longing that coiled below her stomach. He felt as if he were on fire, divine fire that burned through his body. He could think of nothing but the heat of her walls around him, the soft noises of pleasure she made each time he thrust his hips into hers. He could feel his release building at the base of his cock, but he wouldn't allow himself that yet. Not until she was utterly spent and satisfied.

He breast bounced above him—by the Maker, how many times had he caught himself gazing at her chest during council meetings, wondering what lay beneath her tunic? Now they were bear before him, full and soft. Swiftly, Cullen sat, pressing his lips to a pert, pink nipple. Sucking it into his mouth and rasping his teeth against the delicate peak. Her gasp of pleasure sent a twinge of desire through his stomach. Her hands trailed up his body, until her nails were raking through his hair. Cullen sighed at the feeling before switching is oral ministrations to her other hardened peak.

His stubble scratched against her breasts in the most delicious way, and she clutched his head to her chest. Cullen's arms were tight around her waist, crushing her to him as he thrust again and again, each stroke hard and fast. She could feel something building in the base of her spine, hot and electric. The bundle of nerves just above her entrance was pressed against the hard, flat pane of his abdomen, and each pistoning of his hips brought a white hot surge of pleasure. His name fell from her lips, each a stone plummeting into the well of the abyss.

"Cullen. Cullen Cullen. I need you. Yes. Cullen. Please. Don't stop. Oh Maker. Cullen. Don't stop."

The electricity was rising, roaring through her now. Elena's back arched, and her head fell backwards, mouth open in a silent scream as her entire body shivered around his thick cock.

She was so wet and hot as she tightened around him. Cullen groaned—he wasn't going to last much longer. He thrust into her, hard and fast, matching the way she shook around him. He closed his eyes and let himself fall headfirst into his release. A low, primal growl tore from the back of his throat as he spilled his seed inside of her with a final, short stroke.

They stayed like that, entwined in each other for a moment, their breaths heavy and gasping. Slowly Cullen eased out of her, and laid her down on the furs beneath them. Holding himself off of her with his arms, he pressed kisses to her face. Her brow, both eyelids, the tip of her nose, before taking her lips in a gentle, soft kiss. Elena's arms were around his neck, fingers playing with his curls. She smiled shyly.

"I hope my lady is suitably warm now," he murmured against the flushed skin of her cheek, planting another kiss.

She sighted under him and turned to press a chaste kiss to the scar on his lip.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps we should do that again, just to be on the safe side," he could hear the mischief in her voice.

Cullen rested his forehead against hers. "Maker's breath, woman. Give me a moment."

"What in the name of Andraste's ashes is going on in here!?"

Cullen and Elena exchanged a mortified look before he bolted out of bed, scrambling to find his trousers.

"Nothing Seeker! Commander Cullen was just demonstrating a finer point of Templar survival training to me," Elena called from the bed, clutching a coverlet to her chest.

Cassandra's nostrils flared but she relaxed the grip on the hilt of her sword.

"I'm sure," she said, glaring balefully at him, before turning on her heel and leaving the tent.

Cullen shrugged, heat rising to his face, as he stood with his pants clutched in front of his manhood, and waited for the Seeker to leave. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Anyway, we should…probably…let everyone know you're alright."

Elena giggled at his words as she stood from the bed. Walking over to him, she touched her hand to his cheek.

"I certainly am, now," her lips were pressed to his for an all too brief moment. "Thanks to your dedicated efforts, Commander."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm always happy to oblige you, my lady Herald. Whatever you need."

She quirked an eyebrow, "_whatever_ I need?"

"Absolutely," he whispered, capturing her face in his large rough, hand and pressing another kiss to her soft lips.


End file.
